


Honesty

by Mr_Lonely



Series: Virtues [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Slow Dancing, Talking, Touching, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Lonely/pseuds/Mr_Lonely
Summary: There was a pause that the music filled before Will asked, “Do you know what you'll call it?"It was Hannibal's turn to pause as Will put his hands on his shoulders. Not gripping, just resting there, occasionally tapping his fingers to mimic Hannibal’s. "I believe I do."“Oh?”“The Fall.”
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Virtues [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034442
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> here I go again, thank you so much for reading xx  
> (I'll dance at your wedding if you comment)

It was raining, and Hannibal was playing the harpsichord.

  
"That's beautiful. One of yours?"

  
Will walked into their living room. He had been walking the dogs when the rain started, and just managed to get them all back in time. Thankfully their house had a mud room, complete with a set of cheap towels to use on the dogs for situations like this. Said dogs followed at Will’s heels, eventually all settling around the fire.

  
Hannibal smiled. "Yes, a newer composition. Though, I am surprised you can tell."

  
Will snorted. "I do know some music." Just under the music he heard Will shuffle over to stand behind him. There was a pause that the music filled before Will asked, “Do you know what you'll call it?"

  
It was Hannibal's turn to pause as Will put his hands on his shoulders. Not gripping, just resting there, occasionally tapping his fingers to mimic Hannibal’s. "I believe I do."

  
“Oh?”

  
“The Fall.”

  
Will stilled behind him. One of his hands slipped from Hannibal's shoulder, down his back, stopping just above the entry wound from the Dragon's gun.

  
"I find that all emotion, tempestuous as it is, can be borne when put into music. What better circumstances to put that theory to use than these?"

  
It had taken some time to find a harpsichord to Hannibal's standards, while also remaining discrete. They were not hiding, per se, but they still had to be incredibly careful. They were both sick of running; it was time for the sands of time to cover their tracks.

  
"What about regret?"

  
Here was a complicated part that required his attention, but as soon as it was over Hannibal replied, "Who's regrets do you mean?"

  
Will's hand traced up his back to rest again on his shoulder. "I don't express myself through music, so there's only one person left."

  
The song ended, but neither of them moved. Hannibal considered for a moment before taking one of Will's hands and lightly kissing the top of it. He took in Will’s slight tremor, the halted breathing. Hannibal pulled his lips back.

  
"Have I gone too far?"

  
“No, you're- no,” Will hummed, but he didn't move from where he stood. There was enough room between the two of them that when Hannibal turned around on his bench, their knees barely brushed. He kept a hold of Will’s hand only because the other man hadn't tried to take it back yet, even though the other had slipped off his shoulder.

  
The rain created a blanket around the house, it's dull roar similar to ocean waves crashing against the sides of a boat. The kitchen light was on, and the hearth was lit, but the little patch where they stood was softly shadowed, as if the light bent around them.

  
"I imagine you feel it is easier when I cannot reciprocate."

  
Will chewed his lip. "Feels safer to pet a tiger when it's sedated, don't you think?"

  
Hannibal’s lips quirked. “Is that how you see me?”

  
“I see you,” Will said, “and I can touch you, but I've yet to convince myself that I’m allowed to.”

  
Well, he could not allow that doubt. Not when they had been through so much together, had hunted together, had died and come back. Hannibal stood, keeping their hands together. “May I have this dance?”

  
Will’s brow furrowed. “We might run into some problems with that.”

  
“How do you mean?”

  
“Well, for one.” Will put his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder almost instinctively, stepping closer as Hannibal’s hand came around his waist to rest at the small of his back. “I can't dance.”

  
“Dancing when it is a performance requires a great deal of skill and practice. However,” Hannibal looked around, “given that our only audience is the dogs and the rain, I believe your skill will not be judged too harshly.”

  
Will chuckled. “I'll give you that. But we don't have any music, unless you can dance _and_ play the piano.”

  
“Harpsichord.”

  
“Gesundheit.”

  
Will was grinning openly now, and it was the brightest thing in the room. Hannibal wondered idly if this is what Icarus felt like. Once he might have thought the comment rude, now he was helpless against smiling back.

_Then, now. Caterpillar, chrysalis, Becoming._

  
_Falling._

  
Will looked at him for another moment, smile growing softer, before he shifted. He put his cheek against Hannibal’s collarbone, and let out a long breath. They shifted, almost unconsciously, to the same way they'd been holding each other that night. Hannibal’s hands around Will’s waist, cheek pressed against his hair.

  
Will put his hand, palm down, over Hannibal’s heart.

  
Where their last embrace had been clinging, to life and each other, _desperate_ , now this was softer, a touch more hesitant; shaky as a fawn struggling to stand.

  
As they began to sway in place, Hannibal started to hum.

  
The rain continued to fall.


End file.
